Come to me. Come on now, let me get that speck out of your eye. Let mama take care of you. Over here my baby. What’s that you gathering, figs? From thorns? Didn’t anybody ever tell you not to do that? Don’t worry, pobre, let mama have you now. I’ve had my eye on you baby. On your other eye. I saw you poking your nose up under those statues. Trying to get in there with your goggle eye. Your eye, your nose. But you got caught by that young little punk ass motherfucker. Oh did I shock you? It’s the company I keep. O the saints above me! And the ones behind me too. I feel all wet just watching your reaction. You remind me of Nannetti’s father, turning me upside down to have a look under my blue robe. He made money selling my body: religion pays. Oh you look delicious. You want mama to shock you a little more? Not yet. Eat first. Have some sweets of sin for mama (for Raoul) then you can stick your nose up my blue robe, white under, purple silk petticoats under that. Listen. 4:00 is coming, baby, you know what that means. Clockhands are turning. Time ever passing.

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About Nowthenowhen

I am now and not then. Nothen. Death stilled them and me with them. Yet my now moves away away. From that time I make my sense of time. The stilled moment of death. Stop the moving now. Separate it from this moving now, this one here, you are looking at it, this now, not that now, this now. Did you see it? What you saw is gone. What is your now? In this now I cannot resurrect them. In a walled now (in finite now) no escape to them. Where is my shaded sundial? Tomorrow is a new day will be.